


Untitled

by kuroreaperkinkmeme



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Daddy Kink, Kuroshitsuji Reaper Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroreaperkinkmeme/pseuds/kuroreaperkinkmeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuro Reaper Kink Meme, Original Request: Lawrence Anderson/Ronald Knox, daddy kink</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

There are few things that irritate Lawrence Anderson more than insubordinate juniors who complain about their glasses.

The assignment of frames does allow a certain amount of freedom for individuality; it's a rite of passage as well as a type of reward for passing exams. Glasses reflect an individual reaper's personality many times, and they are worn both as a badge and as a symbol of their subservience to higher powers.

No one knows how old he is; there have been guesses, but Lawrence finds that keeping them in the dark just further cements his control over the department. The more he's feared, the more he doesn't have to deal with imbeciles asking for garish frames or customized lenses. But somehow, some manage to get away with it.

There's Grell Sutcliff. Lawrence likes Grell on principle, if only because he's entertaining; he actually selected a pair of rather ordinary red frames -- his favorite color, as he so frequently announces -- but crafted the spectacle chain himself, replete with small skulls. Flamboyant, but nothing that Lawrence was tasked with.

There's Eric Slingby -- a case Lawrence prefers not to recall; and Alan Humphries, a simple chap with simple requests.

And then there's William T. Spears, Lawrence's favorite. They occasionally have tea together and gripe over insubordination and timetables mucked up by incompetent staff. He's possibly the only reaper that Lawrence is fond of, and he didn't ask for anything special from the workshop. The decorative lines on his frames were something Lawrence himself added, just to say thank you for Will's respectable professionalism, and he's worn them ever since.

And then there are the custom orders. The bloody custom orders.

In the year 1700, Lawrence devised a catalogue of frame offerings, and decreed than any newly graduated reaper was to choose their frames from the book. Any deviations would require several impossible-to-attain signatures from upper staff that most fledgling reapers were, and continue to be, too lazy or unlikable to acquire.

This is not the case with this new one. He's managed to submit the proper form, with the proper signatures, in a matter of a day. He's a playboy, a bit of an naive tomcat, a surefire philanderer with a boy's smile.

His name is Ronald Knox, and he wants...

Lawrence looks at the form again.

_Squarish specs with a bit of a v-shape at the bottom and then the bits on the sides that are wide, so they're sort of a five sided square because they quite suit my face or so I've been told. Ta, mate!_

The words, "Ta, mate," are actually written at the bottom of the form.

Lawrence pinches his nose and makes the sound of dismay that causes several of the workers in his department to step away from their rinsing bins and look alarmed.

"Carry on," he says in exasperation. "Shift's almost over, you lot. Someone request Ronald Knox up in my office to discuss this... request."

A few of his staff exchange looks at each other, chuckling quietly, and Lawrence feels a rather smug small smile grace his face.

It's evenings like these that make accepting customized frame forms worth it.

= = = =

"Hiya!" Ronald waves cheerily as he gives a friendly knock at Lawrence's open door. "I hear you wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes," Lawrence says, adjusting his glasses.

He hates this Knox character even more upon seeing him again. He has the unruly hair of an insolent schoolboy, the demeanor of a young dandy and the naive confidence of a complete and utter imbecile.

"You're quite clever then, lad? To get these signatures?"

Ronald's eyes widen and he nods emphatically.

"I had to leg it up and down five flights of stairs to find all the relevant parties!"

Lawrence just stares at him, but he continues.

"And!" he exclaims, and Lawrence can't help but nod, awaiting more of his explanation that has suddenly become a story, "I was, at the same time, on my way to get additional permissions for my customized scythe!"

He grins and shakes head; he's so endearing Lawrence wants to throw him out the window.

"Worth it though, eh?"

Lawrence clears his throat.

"Well then, lad," he says, "I've asked you in here to discuss these customized... spectacles."

Ronald suddenly looks very serious and nods.

"If you don't mind, I'd also appreciate them in two different colors. I've been told by the lovely ladies in General that blue quite suits me as well."

Lawrence can do better than throw him out the window. 

He smiles at Ronald, which to his delight, only makes Ronald smile even more widely.

"Well then," he starts smoothly, "come over here and have a look. I have a special catalogue reserved for those with tastes... such as yours."

Ronald looks positively enraptured, and takes a few steps forward toward the large desk.

Lawrence reaches into his desk drawer to take out one of his dummy models for the original catalogue and sets it down like a holy relic; Ronald's eyes widen and he looks absolutely entranced.

"Is that for the customized spectacles then?" he asks breathlessly, as if in awe.

"Yes," Lawrence says in what he thinks is a rather mystical voice. "Just for lads like yourself."

"Brilliant!" Ronald exclaims.

"Now then," Lawrence says, pushing his chair out. "Come 'round this way and have a look."

He opens the large catalogue, and Ronald walks behind the desk without a single reservation to stare in wonder at the range of frames and specifications laid out before him.

Lawrence smiles in a welcoming manner and stands behind him, bending over his shoulder. He's got at least five inches on the little twit, and he points out a pair of glasses that have been out of manufacture since 1780.

"These are similar to what you requested," he says seriously, "though I'm not sure they're available in blue." His voice is grave. "But one of your tastes can find something better I'm sure."

Ronald nods.

"I don't quite fancy those," he says critically.

When Lawrence gets closer to turn the page, his body grazes against Ronald's; he looks completely unaware though, and is so fixated on his customized frames, that he just gives a bit of a laugh.

"Oi, sir, these pages are quite large. Sorry if I'm in your way!"

Lawrence stares at him, and then smiles. He hopes his eye hasn't developed a tic yet.

"What about these then," Lawrence says, pointing out a pair of glasses without looking.

He realizes Ronald has looked over at his shoulder at him as if he's mad, and then he realizes that he's pointed to a pair of rather flamboyant tortoiseshell glasses.

"You're havin' me on!" Ronald exclaims gleefully, shaking his head. "Well, how about these then?"

He points to a similar pair of frames as the last selection and taps a thoughtful finger against his mouth.

"I suppose green will have to do in place of blue. Shame though."

"Oh, it _is!_ " Lawrence says sympathetically. "You've such a handsome face, after all!"

"So I've been told," Ronald says in his cocky manner, yet still so... likable.

A right git if Lawrence has ever seen one.

"In fact," he says, giving up on the game since Ronald seems to be too daft to even play, "I have another catalogue if you'd like to peruse."

"That'd be--"

Ronald's voice catches when he feels Lawrence's hand slide down the small of his back to his ass; he doesn't say anything, tense with shock.

"I'm afraid there's one signature you missed," Lawrence says, massaging his hand against Ronald's rather pert ass -- perhaps his one attribute. "It's mine, and I have final approval over your selection."

Ronald just stands there, and Lawrence genuinely isn't sure whether he's debating, terrified or amused.

Unreadable, this one. Probably not much going on behind that pretty face, and yet he still manages to be an annoying, demanding, preening little brat of a junior.

"If I--" he starts, his voice carefully controlled, "well..."

"You see," Lawrence says, ignoring Ronald's stuttered response, "do you know what they call me around here?"

"Um," Ronald gulps, and makes an uncomfortable noise as Lawrence's hand slides around to the front of his trousers and mercilessly squeezes at his cock, "Director?"

Lawrence laughs softly into his ear, rubbing his hand against the front of Ronald's trousers.

"Daddy."

"Daddy?" Ronald breathes.

"Daddy," Lawrence repeats. "Now unzip your trousers, and show me how badly you'd like those customized frames, lad."

To his amazement, Ronald actually does as instructed and unzips himself; Lawrence reaches in to feel his cock. He's rather well endowed, all things considered; no wonder General likes him. It's certainly not for the personality... or perhaps it is. Never mind that though, because this is the highlight of Lawrence's day when the new crop of graduate first spring up and start demanding things like the insolent twits that they are.

"Who's going to give you those bloody blue frames you'd like, junior?"

"...Daddy," Ronald murmurs. Lawrence can see the fierce blush already traveling up his neck and to his cheeks. 

Lawrence starts to stroke him, uncaring as to whether Ronald is aroused or not, and growls into his ear, "Say it again."

"Daddy," Ronald says more loudly, "please, I'd like a pair of new spectacles!"

To Lawrence's shock, Ronald's is hardening under his hand.

Ronald bloody Knox is getting off on calling him "daddy."

This is now how things are supposed to go! Damn it...

Lawrence lets go and pushes him forward onto the desk; Ronald goes almost willingly, and if Lawrence isn't mistaken, there's a rather ridiculous grin on his face.

"Daddy!" Ronald exclaims, "I'd so fancy a new set of frames!"

Lawrence loses his composure and lands a sound slap against Ronald's ass through his trousers.

Ronald moans.

No, this is not good.

"Are you a bloody fairy, then?" he taunts. 

"No!" Ronald moans out. "Not a bit."

This doesn't seem to be anything more than factual information though, and the blush doesn't return.

Lawrence goes for his last option, reaching around to stroke Ronald outright. He thrusts his hips into Lawrence's hand eagerly, spreading his legs even and groaning as he comes onto the ground where he's bent over the desk.

Finally, he doesn't move, and Lawrence thinks he's got him cornered.

"You're a badly behaved slag," he says. "What would your seniors think if--"

Ronald stands up, a grin on his face, pulls up his trousers and turns around.

"Alright then!" he exclaims cheerfully. "I quite like the first pair. Green it is. Cheers!"

Lawrence just stares at him, and Ronald looks concerned.

"Is that all right?"

Lawrence finds himself nodding with a dumb expression, and Ronald lets loose that obnoxious wonder boy grin again.

"Well then, at least now I know what you're called around the Dispatch, Daddy! Ta!"

Lawrence Anderson sits in his office chair, staring at the scribbled writing on the form blankly, and finally stamps it "approved."

"Fair enough, Knox," Lawrence murmurs spitefully. "I'll have you next time."


End file.
